The Meaning of Life Challenge
by Foxxy Mcgee
Summary: Duo winced again as one of the blond's suicide heels found a way into his tender rib cage. If he hadn't been trying to aim, Duo would've yanked the heel off and beaten him with it. Now that wasn't too bad of a thought... Two new fics! Ended on a happy one
1. Slush

**Meaning of Life Challenge.**

So I got this crazy idea that I should do a music challenge. I probably don't get enough sleep, but it seems like a good idea. I got Cltc to agree to play along with me. My list is typed up and on the computer, but I will choose my songs out of the list at random.

The rules of the challenge is to use a quote from the song, the title, or follow along with how you interpret the song. We're aiming for once a week updates, but that may not hold up. Some of my one-shots may connect to each other, but they don't have to. No set pairings... maybe yaoi/yuri, hetero, or no pairing. Fluff, friendship, dark, or anything goes.

My ipod didn't get very random and hit some really weird songs. Thanks ipod... giving me something by Weird Al.

If you'd like to participate just shoot me a message and go ahead! Adhere to the rules, please, they are pretty simple.

The series is called "The Meaning of Life" because of the number 42, which we originally were using for amount of songs. So if you choose to play along, you only have to hit 42, but I have a list of 51 - by accident. I may go higher if I so choose. You can, too.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. Nope. If I did, would I be writing random silly fanfics on the internet? Maybe. Just to mess with people. But not this time, sadly.**

**This disclaimer stands for all one-shots in this challenge.**

Yaoi if you squint? No pairing intended though, take how you will.

* * *

When I'm driving I have this obsession with hitting puddles or giant clumps of snow, Quatre always rolls his eyes and laughs at me, but his hand never leaves the "oh shit" handles. I can't help it though, I'm drawn to it, I _have_ to do it. I like to wreck peaceful things, disrupt the calmness of a still puddle... or watch the snow turn to sludge, ruining the pure whiteness of it.

I never really understood purity, because I never really had any, I guess.

Anyway - it's one of those moments that causes Heero to turn towards me with a frown. "Must you hit everything you see?" He tries to give off an air of annoyance, but really his eyes show indifference. It's like we try to fight, sometimes, even over the petty things.

I shrug and use the end of my braid to tickle his face while shooting him my biggest grin. "I am a lazy gett, she is as pure as the cold driven snow..."

He merely raises an eyebrow before leaning back in his seat, nose twitching slightly. The look on his face passing quickly as if he knew _exactly_ what I was thinking, but pushed it away for later study or debate. He reminds me of a robotic arm and a wall of filing cabinets, or a CD changer - paused and switched to a new CD mid-song. Just like that, the next thought is processed, stored, and easily pulled for later use. He can quote you word for word, so I've learned to sugar-coat my words around him... he usually makes me eat them and they won't taste as bad going down.

I worry about him sometimes, worry about what goes through his mind. Nobody comes out of war unscathed. I tell him this, too, but he always gives me a look. I never really understand it.

Or I choose not to. Maybe because I try to ignore what's in my own head.

Maybe.

War... death... I've been involved, I've been front row for acts too horrible to mention. It all makes me feel dirty and used... much like the snow I swerve the car into.

We slide a bit, then I pull it back on the road, glancing at Heero as he's jerked around in his seat. He's sitting calmly in the passenger seat - hunched down, arms crossed - reminds me of a kid. I can't help but smile a little at that. Talking to him proved useless - he turned the radio on immediately after, so I'm left in the silence of my own mind.

My mind. It's like a confessional booth from Hell. Flooded with sins, yet there is no one to deliver my forgiveness.

The song on the radio is a bouncy, perky number, something pop, and I find my fingers tapping along with the beat, a smile on my face.

It honestly scares me how much cheerfulness is subconsciously programmed into my expression or actions. I'm so startled by my revelation that I miss Heero speaking to me. He's giving me a look like he is expecting an answer, but I just give him another dumb grin.

I have snow to hit, after all.

I honestly hope those people don't mind the tire tracks through their yard.

"Have you thought about seeing a therapist, Heero?"

He gives me one of those looks again.

Debate.

Process.

Store.

"Did you eat lead paint as a child?" His question hits me off guard and I find myself laughing at his very un-Heero-like comment.

"Wall candy? You betcha." I do this little chompy thing at him, like a rabid squirrel, one eye squeezed closed, the other comically large.

He rolls his eyes and looks out the window, probably storing that away, too. I don't blame him, it was a bit creepy.

He gives me a look between agitation and annoyance. "I said: 'You do know this is a car and not a pony, right?'"

Another laugh from me before I catch his reflection in the glass, studying me. It's almost surreal with the snow beyond the window, the light playing off of it and I have to suppress a shudder. I can read his expression, even in the glass, and it really freaks me out.

My eyes find the road again and I refrain from hitting any more snow - I'm suddenly not in the mood to crush things.

I'm smiling again, I can't help it... I can catch my own expression in the rear-view mirror and I shudder. There is no where to hide in a car... it's almost as suffocating as my head.

Almost. Maybe.

I can feel eyes on me and I turned, glancing at him for a moment. He gives me another unreadable look or one that my mind simply refuses to process.

"Duo, have _you_ ever considered seeing a therapist?" He leans back in his chair again as I tighten my grip on the wheel.

"I'm not crazy."

I'm _not._

* * *

Song: Belle & Sebastian - "The Boy With the Arab Strap"


	2. Forgiveness

1x2 Abuse, angst, death, religion themes. Twisted?

**Warnings! This chapter itself is rated mature. **

**If religious themes, death, abuse, and yaoi bother you, hit the back button or skip this chapter. Slightly lemony? Or limey? Like 7-up... you know it's there, but you can't really taste it.**

* * *

"I _hate_ you. I HATE YOU!" He fell to his knees, fingers curling in the earth, leaving tracks in their wake. "I fucking hate you! Get away from me!"

"Duo."

"NO! Just get away from me." Duo pushed himself up to his feet and backed away from the figure before him. "Just get away from me!" He ran his hands through his hair, pulling hard. "How could you do this to us? How could you!" He let the hands travel down to his face, ignoring the streaks of dirt and tears left behind in their wake.

"You're a liar. Tell me about Quatre, huh?"

"Just shut the fuck up!" Tear stained eyes found their way to blue. "I hope you're happy. I hope," His voice cracked, flooded with fresh tears. "it was worth it, you've killed me. You've finally fucking killed me, Heero Yuy."

"It's not over."

"I loved you. I gave you everything! I have nothing left!" He swung a fist connecting with the chest in front of him. "I. Fucking. Loved. YOU!"

Heero grabbed the frantic boy in front of him, pinning their chests together. He ran a hand over the fresh black eye, trailing down the bruised jawline "You need to learn your place, you need to ask me for forgiveness."

"NO! I told you to get the fuck away from me." Duo half laughed, half choked on a sob. "I hope you're happy with her. I hope you think of me every time you fuck her. I hope you suffer, you fucking bastard. I hope you die."

"Duo-"

The braided pilot ran a hand over his eyes and shook his head. "It's over. It's fucking over. I can never love you again. Never." He backed away slowly. "You're dead to me."

Prussian eyes darkened and narrowed at the words. "You'll love me. You have to, until the day you die, I never said you could leave me."

"Then let it come!" Duo removed the ring from his finger, flinging it at Heero. "I'm already in Hell! If this is what love is, I don't want it!" Duo turned.

"Stop or I'll kill you."

"You already have."

* * *

"Everythings gonna be fine." Duo tossed back another shot, glancing at the blonde next to him.

"Duo, I'm really worried about you, please, don't do this to yourself, it's over with Heero. Just get away from him."

He pulled the blond close. "I can't. I can't give you what you need, Quatre. Let me go. I'll always love him."

"Duo, please..." Quatre hugged him tighter. "Please... I feel like I'll never see you again if you walk out that door. You treat him like a God!"

"I'm sorry Quat." He ran a hand through the golden hair, cherishing the feeling between his fingers one last time before making a cross in the air. "I have to go. I'm tainted."

"Duo please!"

He pressed his lips to the blonde's. "You were everything, Quatre, everything."

* * *

"Come with me." The strong arms pulled him to the bedroom and he fought the urge to struggle. This was right, this was love. This is what he owed his God.

"On your fucking knees. Hands in the prayer position. I want you to earn this."

He complied, feeling the cuffs biting into his flesh as they were locked around his wrists.

He smirked hearing the belt loosen and the pants fall the floor, there would be no mercy for him. Sinners didn't deserve mercy. He couldn't expect redemption, he was beyond forgiveness.

Tears soaked the blindfold as the gag was tightened around his mouth.

"I told you, you'd never get away."

A knife pressed against his throat as a hand pulled his head back by the hair.

He didn't even wince as he felt himself entered, forcefully and fast, the thrusting causing the blood to coat them both.

Even as the knife was pressed further into his neck, he kept his hands up, locked together in silent prayer, covered eyes turned towards the heavens.

* * *

He yanked the jeans over himself, not bothering with the blood drying and cooling on his skin. Duo was sprawled on the bed before him, head tilted back towards the sky, mouth open and gasping for a breath he'd never catch. Heero ran a hand down the perfect body. He looked so peaceful, so beautiful like this. Wounded and open.

He dipped his fingers into the wound on the pale neck, bringing them to his lips and licking the blood from his fingers. The cobalt eyes found his one last time silently pleading with him, but Heero only shook his head.

"You were never as good as her. Even in death you disgust me."

He turned and walked from the room, not bothering to glance over his shoulder.

There was no forgiveness.

* * *

Song: Seether - Fine Again


	3. Death Awakened

No pairings this chapter, unless you like to stand on your head, squint, and pretend. The pilots all work/worked for Preventers on a as needed basis, like the ending of episode zero.

* * *

"Kill me. Please just kill me." Dead cobalt eyes met his and he shuddered.

"I can't do that, Duo." He couldn't.

"God damn you, Heero! Kill me!" He grabbed onto the japanese pilot's collar, shaking him. But Heero shook his head. He couldn't do this alone, he couldn't make it without Duo. He'd break.

"You selfish fucking bastard!"

He could see the tears forming, but it was true. He was selfish. "If I kill you, then I'm alone. And who would kill me?"

* * *

Quatre glanced up at the hot desert sun, then back to the soldier addressing him at his side, wishing to get past all the formalities. "As you can see, sir, everything was cleaned and polished for your stay." Everything was clean, too clean. Too boring. Too fake. That's why they were here, rumors of slaves and illegal arms kept underground were circulating - until the Preventers were called in to investigate. Luckily removing and posing as the Generals here had been easy, they didn't even need to bother with their IDs, which made Quatre wince internally. How could a base get so bad as to be this lax? Or was it simply a trap?

The blond nodded absentmindedly to the soldier before him, shooting a glance to his quiet partner. Trowa crossed his arms, shifting his weight slightly. "Are there any _hobbies_ on this base?"

"Excuse me General?" The brown eyes flashed to the taller pilot, one dark eyebrow raised.

Quatre turned to the soldier. "What he means, Lt. Adams, is their any _entertainment_. We accepted the transfer on grounds of their being _hobbies _for us to engage in at this God forsaken base." He meant that, too, there was something vile in the air, something almost grotesque. Quatre took a moment to let his conscious search the grounds.

The soldier glanced around, studying the bare stone buildings, then looked back to the two. "Sirs, we do have entertainment, but you already knew that. In the underground bunker, it's dangerous, so we always take a buddy. And guns."

The blond raised an eyebrow, and glanced back over the pristine base, it was cold and lacking, he could feel the undercurrent of emotion here, terror, anger, lust, brutality, and a stronger wave of hatred. It was already more then they were expecting to find and he was afraid of what laid in the bunker. He suppressed the shudder and glanced back to Trowa - he needed to get this over with as quickly as possible. The taller pilot was looking down at him from the corner of his eye, but talking to the soldier in front of them. "We'd like to see if you don't mind."

Quatre relaxed at his words, grateful that the other pilot could read his moods so well. He _knew._

"If you'd like General, I'll take you now. Are you armed, sir?"

Trowa held out his pistol to the soldier who nodded. "Very good. You'll need it."

* * *

"No miracle is coming." Violet eyes locked on to his and he suppressed a shudder at the odd glow they held, pulling the body closer to his own.

"Sleep." Please sleep. He couldn't handle more of this.

"Everybody dies here. Buried alive behind enemy lines." A twisted smile.

"Sleep, Duo..." Was this thing in his arms even Duo? After the torture, the experiments, everything they had done... Duo had never come back, instead they used armed guards to bring this back to him.

"Welcome to Hell." The arms reach out, hands touching the bars, fingers trailing up them absentmindedly. "There's no end in sight."

His arms ached, but he held the boy closer, rocking. "Please come back to me."

Whatever was in the cell with him just ran his hands over the bars, humming to himself, even giggling at something Heero couldn't see.

* * *

The underground bunker stunk of death and blood and Quatre paused to keep down the contents of his stomach. The emotions here were stronger - darker than the grounds above and he couldn't keep them locked out. It was almost suffocating and he wondered if the taller pilot could feel it on his skin as well. He relaxed as a hand squeezed his shoulder and gently pushed him forward. Trowa could feel it, too, and he relaxed a bit.

The soldier stopped in front of a rusted door, pausing to look over his shoulder at the two. "Here it is. Just beyond this door, sir. But I must give you warning first."

"What is it Lt. Adams?" Trowa moved to stand before Quatre, giving the blond a moment to recover himself.

"One is very strong and we've had to keep his arms broken and all the food is drugged. He's very protective of the other when he's awake. But the other..." The soldier looked nervous.

"What is it?" Trowa's voice was quiet, but impatient.

"He's different... a demon, sir. His eyes glow... violet."

"A demon?"

"Yes, sir. He calls himself Death, and he lives up to the name. Sometimes the soldiers who touch him die. Their throats are... ripped out."

Quatre felt like his blood had turned to ice. "Did you say he calls himself Death?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why do you keep them here then, if they are so violent?" Quatre feared he already knew the answer.

"For the danger sir, to brag that they were the one to break a gundam pilot."

* * *

The Sargent never saw it coming - he'd just removed himself from the boy's body, turning with a smirk to fix his belt when it happened.

He hadn't expect those glowing violet eyes to shoot open, for the body to move faster than lightening, whipping the braid around his throat, the boy's teeth sinking into his neck - his jugular. He'd never expected the boy to be strong enough to hold on til the end, twisting the braid as tightly as possible. Then tearing a chunk from his skin.

The man screamed in terror and agony, fading into a gurgle as his throat was ripped out.

Duo smirked.

Another body, one of many.

They were afraid of him. He grinned, spitting out the chunk of meat and blood from his teeth, running a hand over the back of his mouth.

* * *

Trowa had insisted that Lt. Adams wait back at the door, but it had come down to giving him a direct order he was reluctant to follow. He'd insisted that one was a demon and they weren't safe.

The door opened into a small dirt tunnel with locked cages lining either side. A few times they'd stopped to study the contents of them, but it was clear that all prisoners were dead - some fresher than others. Both pilots held handkerchiefs over their noses as they walked, neither wanting to stop again for fear of retching.

The emotions here were strongest to Quatre and he fought hard to keep his head clear, to keep focused. Hate pierced through anything, strong and wild, but the emotion was familar somehow and he used it to keep himself steady.

The last cell in the hallway was small, so small the two occupants inside couldn't lay down, but they were huddled together anyway. Dead violet eyes looked up, cast in an eerie glow, meeting Quatre's and he froze.

"Duo?" It was barely even a whisper, maybe a squeak in the air, but the other figure turned his movements sluggish and Quatre's eyes widened. "Heero?"

* * *

Song: Otep - Buried Alive

Maybe my next fic should be fluff and happiness. Hahaha. Whoa.


	4. Crotchless Panties

This one... well... there wasn't much hope for the boys after I realized the song. :D Something to disperse the angst and creepiness I've worked up. I couldn't leave you all hanging with 3 angst fics.

**2x4, cross-dressing for a mission, lewdness, language, and crotchless panties.**

* * *

"Allah!" Quatre wailed, gripping onto Duo's arm. "Faster, Duo! Faster!"

"As much as I love making those words come from your mouth, nows not the time, Quat!"

"Pedal to the metal, Duo!" The blonde tightend his grip, searching around the seat for a gun. "Let's fly!"

"Jesus Christ, Quatre, I'm running it as hard as I can!" He winced as the Arab squeezed tighter onto his arm, causing the long, pink nails to break the flesh. Any other time he'd have giggled at how messed up this situation truly was. "It's a big rig, not a god damned Lamborghini slash airplane!"

Quatre yelped as his world went airborne, causing him to slam his head onto the roof of the cabin above and he bit down his tongue. "I thought you said this wasn't an airplane!"

"For fuck's sake, shut your damn hole!" Duo screamed, grabbing the blond's pink boa as it slapped him in the face again and tossed it out the window causing sparkly feathers to suck through the cab. His arms jerked with the steering wheel as the big rig slid to and fro on the road. "Make yourself useful and get the gun outta my purse!"

Quatre grabbed said gun, leaning out the window to shoot, but losing balance as his discarded wig caught on the end of his heel, and his foot slid out from under him. "He's going to ram us again!"

"Sonuvabitch!" Duo swerved the rig, wincing as the blond slammed into him, a tangled mass of heels and electric-blue wig. "Heard of seat-belts? Damn."

"Are you hurt?" The blond turned towards him, checking over Duo's sequined mini-dress for wounds.

The American slapped his hand away from the top of the dress, where one singular lopsided 'boob' protruded from his dress. "Hands off my boob! And no, I broke a fucking nail off! Plus, I have the world's worst wedgie! I think this thong just sliced my balls off."

Quatre visibly flinched at the image and turned back to the window, again taking aim. "That's why I wore crotchless panties!"

"You're a sick bastard! But I'm dying to see 'em, so what does that say about me?" Duo winced again as one of the blond's suicide heels found a way into his tender rib cage. If he hadn't been trying to aim, Duo would've yanked the heel off and beaten him with it.

Now that wasn't too bad of a thought...

Quatre fired the gun, giving a whoop as he turned back to the American. "Last target down."

"Thank God." Duo swerved the semi back onto the road and sighed, adrenaline still rushing through his body. "I can't wait to get out of these fucking clothes. Call the others, let them know we're heading back and the mission was a success." He weasled the truck to a large area of gravel, sighing as they eased into a stop.

Quatre gave a faint nod, pulling a phone from the cleavage of his halter top. "Hand me my clothes."

"You're really weird. Phone in your bra?" Duo eyed the top, then the blonde. "Seriously."

"At least I'm not in a thong and a dress with my ass hanging out. Glad to see you shaved your legs today."

"Yeah, like those leopard print pants don't scream out anything about your sexuality."

"Just shut up, Duo!"

The braided pilot grinned, then leaned close, tracing a hand gently over the blond's face. "Your mascaras running a bit. And you are far to sexy in eyeliner. Why don't we see if I can get you to repeat what you asked me earlier?"

Quatre smirked, then pushed the hand away. "Duo, as much as I'd love for you to get those words out of me again, please change clothes. I don't care if your naked, clothed, or roll into town with a sock on it, but please, _please_ get rid of the dress. And the heels. And the nails."

"And the thong?"

"Especially the thong."

Duo crossed his arms, rolling his softly out-lined eyes, one heeled foot tapping the floor. "What, you don't like to make out with guys in lip stick?"

* * *

Song: Weird Al - Truck Driving Song


End file.
